


Change of Plans

by spaceyquill



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8405014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceyquill/pseuds/spaceyquill
Summary: Leia joins Fett on a mission and the plan almost immediately derails.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FettsOnTop (GTFF)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GTFF/gifts).



Barely five years after the death of the Emperor and the routing of his constituents, the New Republic heard unconfirmed whispers that the Zygerrian slave market had been restarted. Mon Mothma took the news the hardest; she’d pushed the current senate to enact regulations and punitive measures on Zygerria to permanently disband the slave trade—what had been a solid source of funding for the Imperials during their reign.

“Our scouts failed to find evidence of the market reestablished in the Zygerria system,” Mon Mothma told Leia weeks later in the Mandalore senator’s office. The Chancellor was the only white thing in there among the historical hide artistry hanging on the walls and the fur rug that looked Selonian but Leia assured her it wasn’t. “Which means they’ve selected another world for their base of operations. I can only imagine the Imperial loyalists who would profit from this if the trade reaches the same height as during the Empire.”

And before the Empire, it benefited the Separatists during the clone war—another historical event Mothma had witnessed, Leia knew. She stood patiently with Jonah propped on her hip, waiting for the purpose of the Chancellor’s surprise visit.

“While I realize this isn’t a Mandalore-specific problem, we would be very interested in contracting someone adept at tracking down hidden targets. We must discover where this new slave market is located and who is involved, quickly and discreetly.”

There it was.

Leia smiled. “I’ll ask my husband.”

* * *

 “I just got back from the last job,” Fett grunted from the couch that night in Leia’s apartment. He sat stretched out, armor stowed, and already half asleep.

“And how fortunate that there’s another job already lined up for you!” Leia called as she toted Jonah from room to room, bouncing him in the only guaranteed routine that could wear him out before bedtime.

“I’ll charge double.”

“It won’t break the treasury.”

“...Triple.”

“Too late. You already said double.”

 

While other operatives on the Republic’s payroll stumbled around the galaxy, Boba Fett pinpointed the new slave arena on the planet Iego within a month of his begrudging acceptance of the job.

He shared the news over a holocall with his wife in the same way he always did: like the very act of accomplishing his job was a bigger inconvenience than being swallowed by a sarlacc.

“Good!” Leia cried. Despite having settled in for the night, she vaulted out of bed, threw on a robe, and began bustling around her Coruscant apartment. Everything was a little harder one-handed; she carried the holodisc in her other, projecting the blue face of Fett growing more perplexed. “Give me your coordinates—I’ll send some warriors your way to help scout, but don’t _do_ anything yet! I don’t want anyone getting suspicious if they see Boba Fett lurking around. I’m on my way!”

 _“You’re what?”_ Fett asked.

They still had to investigate who the slave market connected to, and how deeply underground it ran. That required a subtler touch.

“It’s not just your mission anymore!”

Leia took time away from the Senate, left Jonah plus a set of instructions longer than the boy himself with Luke, and resurrected her Boushh disguise just for this mission.

 

One hyperspace trip later, and Leia, garbed as a bounty hunter, towed two crates behind her all the way to the bay _Slave I_ occupied. Fett met her in the cargo hold, his expression hovering somewhere between amused and disappointed.

“What’s going on?” His helmet was absent, possibly in the cockpit; he must’ve listened to her and avoided acting yet.

“Your gear is too conspicuous and we need to stay undetected.” Her voice hardly sounded human once filtered through her mask, but at least the automatic translation was turned off. Leia unlocked the first crate and lifted up a sleek collar. Realization tightened Fett’s jaw.

“Does it actually have a charge?” he asked.

“No!” The offense managed to cling to her words past the vents.

Leia didn’t remain in the Boushh helmet long, muttering how claustrophobic it was inside there. Besides, she could better appreciate her husband’s new getup not hidden behind tinted lenses.

“So you packed a whole slave outfit for me,” he grumbled, “and forgot the kriffin’ shirt?” Fett stood in a set of pants and boots tighter than anything he’d ever pick out himself, with two cuffs around his wrists—magnetizable to each other at the push of a button—and the collar around his neck.

Leia rummaged through both hovering crates and eventually tossed him a poncho before sitting on the lid of one.

“What’ve you found out since you’ve been here?” she asked, her eyes shamelessly taking in everything about his chest before the unflattering poncho draped him. It was strange how quickly she forgot all the scars he had after only a month apart.

“People keep to themselves. Nobody talks about the slave market even though it’s the reason most people are here. The arena itself is just up the road.” He pointed in the direction of the cargo bay wall.

“And we’ll have an inside look of the proceedings when I put you up for auction tonight,” she said.

Fett spun the poncho around, deciphering which angle was the front. “If I like my new master better, don’t expect me to come back.”

“Now I wish that collar really _did_ have a charge,” Leia said, almost glaring. “Dyrk’s here, too. He’s buying you.”

“My statement still stands.” Fett ducked to avoid Leia’s helmet. “Before you can even enter as a seller, slaves have to be medically cleared. The more stock brought in on a given day, the busier it is, the less chance you’ll make it in before the daily cutoff.”

“Then bring back my helmet and let’s go.”

He fetched it, carrying it to where she still sat on the hovering crate.

“And kiss your wife; she’s missed you.”

It was the first thing he did with any hint of motivation. Fett grabbed her hips and yanked her to the edge of the crate where she collided with his chest. Leia’s attempt at a gloating laugh lasted less than a second before Fett reached up and pulled her head down to meet him in a strong kiss. Her legs wrapped around him in a habit that was sorely missed and simultaneously not enough.

Any coherent thoughts dwelling on the mission evaporated when Leia felt his hands sliding under her tunic to fight with the clasp of her pants.

Leia broke the kiss for air, panting, “We don’t need to infiltrate the arena today…”

“No,” Fett agreed, and to Leia's satisfaction just as breathless, “we don’t.” He finally won the struggle with her pants and tugged her off the crate only to bend her over the top of it.

* * *

Dyrk had been sitting outside the same cantina long enough for the shadows to fully darken the street, watching passersby and waiting. Along with the other warriors there for security, he wore a dusty, nondescript disguise that made sure he didn't stand out as a Mandalorian.

Finally his com blipped with Leia’s frequency.

_“Change of plans. We’re pushing the arena infiltration to tomorrow.”_

He waited for her to cut the communication before muttering, “Every. Single. Time.”

**Author's Note:**

> According to GTFF's canon, the timeframe I tried to squeeze this mission in at was 10 ABYish. I know Mothma didn’t realize Leia’s husband was Fett, but she *did* know he was a bounty hunter. I’m just hoping she had enough blind faith in his skill to go to Leia and make this whole fic possible.


End file.
